Entry tags:
oh, when I dream it's in colour
WHO: Athessa and YOU
WHAT: Farewells, written and in-person
WHEN: ICly mid- to late-Drakonis
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: Keeping all of Athessa's goodbyes in the same place, closed starters in the comments
WHAT: Farewells, written and in-person
WHEN: ICly mid- to late-Drakonis
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: Keeping all of Athessa's goodbyes in the same place, closed starters in the comments

open: packing
It's not difficult to see that something is happening, if you happen to be on the fourth floor of the old mage tower in the Gallows. At any given time of day Athessa's room may be wide open, with the elf within throwing things about in the typical spring cleaning fashion, only with more emphasis on putting things into a traveling trunk instead of tidying it.
Without looking, Athessa will call out to someone passing by her door, "Hey, hand me that, will ya?" and point at something or another. Yes, she could get up and get it herself, but she's sat on the floor trying to figure out how to fit everything she needs into this trunk. It'd be a lot easier if what she needs was confined to just her bug-out bag, but that's in the trunk, too.
Sometimes the door is shut, and there isn't much to see but the ruckus can be heard in the hall, the scrape and wheeze of furniture being moved around because when the fuck did she get all this stuff? It sure seems like she's preparing for something, and in a bit of a rush to do so.
open: docks
The day she leaves, Athessa can be found hauling her stuff down to the docks, one heavy trunk of what-have-you that thuds cacophonously down the stairs unless (or until) someone gets sick enough of the thudding to offer a hand in carrying it.
Once at the docks, that trunk will be hauled aboard by some deckhand or another, leaving Athessa to stare up at the sight of the ship that'll take her across the Waking Sea. It hasn't been all that long since she's been on a ship, of course, but it's been some time since she felt like this. Uncertain of what she's going to find where she's going.

silas.
Open up, I know you're in there. I got a favor to ask.
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But he’s inside to look to the door at the knock now, poised with pen in hand, the quiet inside tell-tale.
He is thinking about playing opossum.
Seconds pass; a chair scrapes back. He turns the lock, and draws the door open, shabby and lean on the other side of it in what she’s seen pass for his pajamas: a loose tunic and trousers rolled at the ankles. But there’s no whiskey on his breath, or wine, or weed. He looks her up and down, clear-eyed and kempt enough to pass for a resident, and not something that crawled in and made a nest beneath one of the cots. ]
What is it?
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[ In contrast to Silas' kempt status, Athessa looks like a college student on day 3 of all-night cram sessions. Hair in a messy bun atop her head, eyes tired, clothes as close to sweats and a sweater as Thedas can muster. She doesn't even give his pajamas a second glance. ]
Would you mind?
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A quick assessment of the state of her is enough to convince him that she isn’t pulling his leg. ]
Of course, [ he says, trace excitement subdued in a serious furrow at his brow. He will do this out of the kindness of his heart and not because he has desperately wanted to stretch out the wings or test the saliva -- ] I will care for Batty Batkins.
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matthias.
Dressed in traveling clothes and regretting that because climbing eight flights of stairs to the Forces office to see Matthias is warmer work than standing on the deck of a ship at the start of spring, Athessa knocks on the jamb of the office door and gives her friend a rather lukewarm smile. Leaving for months doesn't exactly warrant full wattage, as far as she's concerned. ]
Figured I'd stop in to give you a hug before I left.
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hurriedly away from his desk.
He closes the short distance between them and throws himself at her in a hug. She neededn't have said that's what she was after.]
I'll miss you.
[Obviously. But he has to say it, even though it makes his ears turn pink to be so straightforward.]
neededn't
Athessa wraps her arms around him and gives him a squeeze, making the typical I'm gonna crush you out of love noises that people make when hugging little brothers who are getting too tall. ]
I'm gonna miss you like, a stupid lot, Matty. Even though I'm gonna write to you, and you better fuckin' wtite back.
*needent've
'Course I will. Only hope you'll be able to read my handwriting. I'm better at it 'cause of all the practice I've had, but still. You're going to be able to send letters?
just noticed i wrote "wtite" instead of write anyway
we're goode at thus
real gud at thes
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colin & bene.
"You know," Athessa sighs out a column of smoke towards the ceiling, blinking slowly. "You could use my room to smoke in while I'm gone. If ya want."
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"Besides, you'll be back sooner or later."
loxley.
So just as she's approaching the tavern door she gives him a call on the crystal to tell him, hey, I'm stopping in for a drink if you wanna join me for a few minutes.
Does he know already that she's leaving? It might have fallen by the wayside of priorities with their schedules being what they are and him not living one door away from her anymore. Maybe he does know, and will be able to piece together that this is something of a send-off.
"I ordered you something," she announces when she sees him, turning to pick up the glass of something in question and offer it. "Dunno if it's any good but the bottle had a dragon on it."
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He greets her by first bending down to kiss her cheek, while also taking the glass from her hand as smoothly as if he were stealing it. Then, Loxley settles in the chair opposite. For his part, he's keeping himself fed and healthy, out here, though there's a dark seam just visible from the line of his beard from some hard knock, but that too is on the path to healing.
A little dishevelled, like he'd been lounging about or even napping, curls combed with hands dipped in water, but otherwise groomed. "There's one with a unicorn on it," he says, "but only of you want to get properly fucked up."
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"I think I'm gonna stick with improperly fucked up for now. Don't wanna go overboard — ya know, lit'rally."
She nudges his leg with her leg under the table. "Did I catch ya napping? You've got that sleepy look about ya that I like."
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That's a joke, judging by his tone. He wishes. That sounds fun.
But he did catch that, the lit'rally, and where it's marked. His fingers fan out from his grip on his cup as he asks, "You've a ferry waiting for you already?" before bringing his drink up to taste.
docks; I know I said packing in discord but this made more sense to me
Hey. Lemme help you with that?
[ He knows she's leaving but not for how long or why, and honestly? He's nervous about asking. Doesn't want to be too much in her business but also doesn't want to seem like he's disinterested in what's happening with her. ]
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Please, yeah. Thing weighs a fuckin' tonne. I've never had to pack so much shit for a trip before.
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How far you goin' with it? I can prolly lift it for a while, if you're cool with that.
[ It'll take burning through some of that Black Panther not-quite-magic he's got going on since arriving here, but. Worth it, honestly. ]
Like a templar, or whatever.
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—just taking one end is fine, really. There's a lot of stairs between here and there.
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probably about time to put a cap on this'un
yes this is perfect
packing.
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"A silly place to go to avoid being on show.
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That's the joke. But it's a very old joke, by now, so he doesn't collapse dramatically while clutching his chest and gasping that she's forgotten.
"Here, I made you something."
He comes inside, close enough to hold down a little collection of papers, sewn down a center fold to form a booklet. The front says: PLACES OF NO INTEREST. Which of course is a lie. The interior pages—only ten or so of them—each feature a place in the city, with partial little landmark-based maps drawn from memory and notes like (for a roof) you can hear the symphony from here or (for a cafe) ask for the special and wink twice.
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"Places of No Interest. No thanks, not interested."
She even pretends to hand it back, but too quick for there to be any sincere doubt in Baz's mind, she clutches it protectively against her chest and smiles up at him.
"Thank you. Maybe I'll actually get to enjoy the city this way."
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packing
Barrow has come to lean uselessly in the doorway, one cat on his shoulder and another in his arms, a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth.
"Maker, you bringing the whole island?"
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"Yep, you're next. Get in."
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"Not sure I'll fit with her in there," he muses. The other cat, being held like a baby in his other arm, watches sleepily and shows no inclination to move.
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